


Wax Wings

by NeonSauce



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Post episode 10, Yuuri is the focus of Victor's thoughts but he doesn't actually show up, gratuitous Icarus imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonSauce/pseuds/NeonSauce
Summary: Yuuri looked up at him, his eyes as bright and blinding as the sun, and Victor was Icarus, tumbling and falling because he couldn't stay away.Or; a sentence I thought today spiralled into this fic





	

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever be over episode 10??? No.

Alluring.

It's not the only thing that comes to mind, watching Yuuri dances around the room, sliding up and down the pole, hanging on to Victor like his life depends on it. Enchanting, bewitching, baffling.

Unforgettable. 

Victor doesn't forget. He lays in bed in his hotel room and feels Yuuri’s rumpled shirts in the sheets his hands are fisted in. He flies back to Russia and tastes Yuuri’s breath in the cold glass of champagne. Every breath, every second, everything he does and has and knows is an echo of Yuuri Katsuki, a shadow of the pure life, joy and energy, a bittersweet reminder of the bliss that Victor felt in the best four hours of his life.

Radiant.

That's what Yuuri was. Victor had looked down at Yuuri begging Victor to be his coach, drunk and drooling and indescribably beautiful, and his eyes had shone. They were sparkling and golden and captivating and shining brighter than the stars. Yuuri held the goddamn sun in his eyes, and Victor was Icarus, drawn closer and closer despite the searing wax burning his back, pulled to the light by the sheer enchanting force of it.

Victor laughs, and drinks his glass of scotch, relishes in the way it sears his throat as he swallows. It's been months since the banquet, months choreographing and composing and carrying on as if nothing happened. He wonders if it had been this hard for Yuuri. If Yuuri had to hurt the way Victor did, forcing himself to painfully let go of each and every memory, like he was scraping the marred wax off of his back, trying to salvage what little of his wings were left.

Oh and how little was left.

“It's dead.” Yakov tells him bluntly. “Erotic or unconditional, you're like a puppet who's a cheap imitation of the real thing. Neither of them are going to work for your short program. Change your theme Vitya, you aren't suited for love.”

Dead. Puppet. Not suited for love. 

The scars still sting, sometimes.

It's been four months when he thinks he’s done it. When he doesn't look at the photos on his phone every night, when he's able to fall asleep without smelling the champagne, when he's able to keep Yuuri Katsuki as a small good thing in his life and not a catalyst for an existential crisis, when his wings have been carefully and painstakingly mended to hold his weight, to lift him up, to keep him airborne but careful and safe.

He feels an ebb of heat when he sees the video's title.

And then the heat washes over him, engulfing him and taking him, the gentle burn of Yuuri’s bittersweet gaze slowly drawing him closer and closer. It isn't the sudden sear of the banquet, blindingly painful and horribly quick. It's a slow lull, and it's only when the wax is streaming down his back when he notices he’s burning again. The heat is too addicting for him to care.

Yuuri skates towards the camera, reaching and grasping, his eyes a soft heat that beckons and invites, the coffee brown irises not sparkling but glowing, welcoming and open. 

Victor falls. 

He plummets, spiralling and spinning and tumbling and turning as he falls completely and utterly in love. In love with this quiet Yuuri, with this gentle soft person, with curves instead of edges and with emotion in every fibre of his being. In love with the loud Yuuri, that open lively human, with confidence in his shoulders and joy that spreads to his fingertips. 

Yuuri’s eyes hold the sun, a yearning, and an invitation. 

Victor takes it, pulls the light in Yuuri's eyes close to him and doesn't let go.

Booking the ticket is the second easiest and best decision that he's ever made.

(The first is saying “I do.” Yuuri looks at him with the summer’s sun in his eyes and Victor finds himself wanting to lay in it forever.)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written on my phone during school the grammar ain't the best. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at neonsauce.tumblr.com for YOI screaming.


End file.
